


little white lie

by almostafantasia



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/F, Fluff, Ice Skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 07:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13026006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostafantasia/pseuds/almostafantasia
Summary: Clarke has the perfect winter date planned out – ice skating in the park followed by hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows – but it doesn’t quite go as expected when she realises that Lexa has neglected to mention that she spent her youth as a competitive figure skater, while Clarke can barely stay upright on the ice.





	little white lie

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I received on tumblr:
> 
> _we’re going ice skating for the first time this year and it’s pretty obvious that you’re secretly an olympic figure skater or something how the hell are you so graceful you’re literally twirling around on one foot on a frictionless surface and i can barely make a left turn_

When Clarke has the idea, it comes to her very suddenly, but she decides almost instantly that it’s one of the best ideas that she’s ever had.

“We should go ice skating.”

Lexa looks up from her phone with confusion on her face, like she wasn’t quite listening to Clarke’s words.

“Ice skating,” Clarke repeats. “You and me. They’ve built a rink in the park for the holiday season. We should go.”

“Like, right now?” asks Lexa.

“No, not now,” Clarke rolls her eyes. “This afternoon, maybe. Or tomorrow. You’ve got the day off work, right?”

Lexa hesitates for a moment, like she’s trying to decide whether Clarke’s idea is a great one or just downright ridiculous, before she shrugs and answers, “Okay. Why not?”

Clarke smiles gleefully in triumph, before she starts daydreaming about their perfect skating date.

“It’ll be so romantic,” she coos aloud. “Both of us wrapped up warm, holding hands so that we don’t fall down on the ice, drinking hot cocoa to warm us up again afterwards.”

Lexa nods in agreement and says, “I’m a bit rusty, though. It’s been a few years since I last skated.”

Sighing with relief, because she can already imagine how unsteady _she_ is going to be on a pair of skates, Clarke replies, “Me too. Don’t worry about it.”

* * *

It turns out that _Clarke_ should have been the one worrying.

It takes her almost five minutes to get both skates onto the ice and to remain upright, and even then, she’s still clutching onto the wall that surrounds the rink with both of her gloved hands, certain that if she lets go, her already bruised backside will hit the ice again with another unceremonious thud.

Lexa, meanwhile, gets herself onto the ice without as much as a stumble.

Staying completely upright, and with the tiniest glimpse of elegance about her movements that Clarke could only dream about, Lexa skates across the few metres of ice between them and holds out one of her hands.

“Come on, I’ll help you,” she tells Clarke. “Take my hand.”

Clarke tries to pry her fingers away from the wall that she clings to, but they’re either frozen solid by the chilly winter air, or there’s a malfunction in her nervous system between her brain and her hand, because they just don’t move. It’s as if her body _knows_ that she’s trying to take away the one thing that is keeping her upright and has decided to just _nope_ the heck out of there.

“I … I don’t know if I can,” Clarke admits reluctantly, when she’s realised that she isn’t moving anywhere except for downwards if she lets go of the wall.

“I thought you said you’d skated before,” Lexa laughs softly, moving close enough to wrap an arm around the small of Clarke’s back, which Clarke leans into, deciding that the more support she has, the less likely she is to add to the bruises that are already blossoming all over her body beneath the thick layers of clothing.

“Yes, but that was _years_ ago.”

Lexa puts her other hand on Clarke too, taking a firm hold on each side of Clarke’s waist as she tries to coax Clarke away from the wall that is the only thing stopping her from slipping over again. It takes Clarke a few moments to trust Lexa, worried at first that they’re both going to topple into a crumpled heap on the ice with nobody to help them back to their feet, but when she realises that Lexa’s stance on the ice is a stable one, Clarke slowly takes both hands of the railing and holds onto Lexa’s arms with the same white-knuckle grip.

“Don’t worry,” Lexa assures her, noticing the flash of panic that crosses Clarke’s face as she realises that there’s no longer a solid wall there to stop her from falling down. “I’ve got you. Let’s do this together.”

* * *

 

It takes an age for them to do one slow lap of the rink, with Lexa skating backwards and pretty much dragging Clarke around by both hands, and then almost as long to complete a second, slightly more stable lap. By the time they’ve done two laps, Clarke’s legs ache in weird places from the effort of trying to keep herself upright, her ass is bruised from each time she’s tumbled to the ice, and her ego has taken a solid pummelling that will take at least a few days to recover from.

Lexa hasn’t fallen over once.

The girl has been skating _backwards_ , for fuck’s sake! How is that even humanly possible?

“You never said you were this good,” Clarke pouts, leaning against the wall again after their second lap to give Lexa some respite from keeping her on her feet.

“I told you I was rusty. That’s the truth. I used to be able to …”

Lexa trails off and gathers up a bit of speed on the ice, using the momentum to perform an elegant little pirouette in the air onto the opposite skate. All that lets the move down is a tiny stumble as she lands, but as Lexa skids to a halt in front of Clarke again, she looks disappointed with her little display of skating prowess.

“See,” Lexa says pointedly to Clarke, as if Clarke is supposed to be anything less than astounded that her girlfriend can apparently not just stay upright on a pair of skates, but _dance_ on the ice too. “Rusty. I used to be able to perform moves much harder than that one with my eyes closed.”

Clarke just gapes at Lexa in astonishment.

“You’re…” she babbles ineloquently, “you’re basically an _Olympic_ figure skater.”

“Oh, stop being so melodramatic, Clarke,” Lexa says, rolling her eyes. “I was never good enough to be Olympic. I mean, I came second in the junior state championships when I was fourteen, but I gave it up to focus on school.”

“You’re a former competitive figure skater and you didn’t think to tell me that this morning when I suggested that we went skating?”

“It didn’t seem relevant,” shrugs Lexa.

“Not relevant?” Clarke snorts, and the exertion of her exclamation almost has her toppling to the ground once more – and perhaps she would be in an inelegant pile on the ice if it were not for Lexa’s lightning reflexes darting out to catch her. “This was supposed to be a cute date. You know, both of us figuring out how to skate together, laughing at each other’s attempts to stay standing. I didn’t expect the humiliation to be so completely one sided.”

Lexa chuckles softly and puts an arm around Clarke’s waist against to support her as she climbs off the ice and onto the delightfully non-slippy floor outside the rink.

“It _was_ a cute date,” she tells Clarke. “At least, _I_ thought so. I got to hold your hands the whole time and you’re so pretty when you’re concentrating on not falling over. You get that cute little frown on your face, the one that makes your look like Grumpy Cat.”

“Lexa…”

“Plus,” Lexa continues, arching an eyebrow at Clarke, “look at it this way – you’ve just had a free skating lesson with a _former competitive figure skater_.” Lexa parrots Clarke’s words from earlier back to her with a little smirk, then finishes, “And if you’re lucky, I’ll buy you a hot chocolate after we’ve returned the skates as an apology for not telling you that I’m an okay skater.”

“ _Okay skater_ ,” Clarke tuts and rolls her eyes, but she isn’t really mad at Lexa, not when she’s been so patient with Clarke on the ice, and when she looks so cute with her cheeks pink from the cold and her knitted hat pulled down over her ears, and when she’s making promises of hot chocolate that Clarke will be able to taste on Lexa’s tongue when she kisses her later in the evening. Grinning mischievously at her girlfriend, Clarke loops her arm through the crook of Lexa’s elbow and asks, “Can I have cream and marshmallows?”

Lexa gives Clarke a _look_ , and it is devastating in the way that something so simple and silent can have Clarke falling impossibly more in love with the girl who already owns her whole heart.

“Yes,” replies Lexa, “but only because you’re cute and I love you.”

The feeling, it seems, is mutual.


End file.
